What are we exactly?
by CKcraig1535
Summary: Sherlock and Watson have recently become partners and with this change, both characters are seeing each other in a new light. Both are unsure of the future, but they are taking the leap of faith and trusting each other one step at a time.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Obviously, I don't own Elementary for those out there that thought otherwise. If I did, I would be rolling in money right now going, "WOOT WOOT YIPPIE"! Since this is not the case, please enjoy my Elementary fanfiction. This story switches view points, but it will be an obvious switch, so don't worry. I also want to mention the timeline has changed. I am taking some parts of the Detective Bell framing episode to the last episode where Irene is actually Moriarty.

What are we exactly?

The case against Bell was over, now that the framer had been arrested and charged with several counts of first degree murder. The cause, she said, was jealousy and anger. It had been Bell's fault for getting in the Captain's good favor. It had been his fault his Squad leader had been fired after committing illegal acts. Sherlock understood that her image had been skewed by other influences, but her anger was unjustified and put directly on the wrong person. Bell was doing his duty as an officer of the law and ratting on his superior was a must, given the circumstances. Dirty cops belong in jail, or in this case will commit suicide before the arrangement. At least they were able to put one of the wrong doers behind bars.

Anger, Sherlock thought as he stared at his living room wall, could definitely be used to fuel the murderous flames his lover was harboring toward him. But, jealousy, he wasn't so sure. Given his lack of experience with being jealous over a lover, he didn't really know how someone could be pushed to kill another person over this unless emotion. Irene, or her alias Moriarty, had slept with him immediately after meeting him and continued doing so for several months. There were no over suitors vying for her attention. Had there been competitors he would have bid farewell and moved onto someone else. Though, it had only taken him one day to completely fall head over heels for her, he did not want to admit it aloud. But what would have happened if she had played hard to get and chose to give someone else her affections. Would he have become so jealous that he could kill someone? No, he thought, never. Sherlock Holmes does not get jealous and nor will he ever.

Just as he was thinking more about the topic of jealously, Watson walked into the room with spots of blood dried on her newest track jacket. Before he knew it, Sherlock was out of his seat and racing over to inspect Watson. Lifting off her jacket and first layer, he knelt down and began feeling around her abdomen were the droplets had been seen from across the room. Watson began to object abruptly, but was turned in the opposite direction for a back inspection as well. Feeling around Sherlock realized that Watson was not harmed, but merely had large blood spots on her clothing.

Sherlock gazed up to meet Watson's eyes and said, "Watson, did you commit a murder of some sort? From the looks of you, you either administered some type of medical treatment, or you hit someone with a baseball bat like object. From the splatters it could be either."

Watson pushed him away slightly with a grin and said, "Funny. No, didn't commit any murders. How could I? You would deduce I killed someone instantly, forcing me to give myself up and live a life of crime in jail. I wouldn't take those chances."

"Glad to know you understand my sense of justice." Sherlock said while rising to his feet.

Watson turned toward the coat rack and continued to take off her top layers. "I ran into Detective Bell while jogging, and he said his brother wanted my unbiased opinion about his options pertaining to his gun shot. The surgeons were pushing him to have surgery and didn't give him any other practical options. Though surgery is the most successful in these cases, it is also the most expensive. While I was explaining these things to him, he started coughing up blood." Watson pointed to the coat lying on the floor. "That beauty was really the victim in all this." After showing a playful sad face she went on, "He ended up having to have surgery anyway because his left lung started filling up with liquids. There were really no other options at that point, so surgery was key. My friend from college works up at St. Mary's and allowed me to step in and assist with his procedure."

"I agree with your final diagnosis." said Sherlock smugly. "Though you have been out of the game for a while, your know how is quite impressive, even by my standards. I am sure your skills were up to par for the brief time you stepped in."

Watson turned quickly and lightly punched Sherlock on the arm. "What the heck? Was that a backhanded compliment? Before Sherlock could answer, Watson put her finger up so as to continue. She continued with over exaggerated hand gestures, "It's alright, a compliment from the amazing-brilliant-astounding-genius Sherlock Holmes will more than likely always be slightly backhanded. But, thanks anyway."

Sherlock tried to think of a clever response, but fell short. All he said was, "Are all of my comments really backhanded? I didn't even realize I was doing that?"

Watson patted him on the shoulder and said, "Really it's alright. You are my friend. You have many other great qualities like being charming, smart, and witty, but being sensitive is definitely not one of your strongest personality traits. If I wasn't your friend, it would be trouble, but since I know your (air quotes) ways, I forgive you."

Sherlock began counting on his hand, "You forgot alluring, seductive, brilliant, and so many others. I am actually surprised you find me charming."

Watson smiled widely while trotting up the stairs, "I am going to take a shower and get his blood off me. By the way, you may never know what I really think of you Sherlock. It's all locked in the vault." And with a wink and a point to her temple she disappeared into the bathroom.

Later that night, Sherlock sat staring at the wall in his thinking spot in the living room just glaring at the old tattered wall. Images of Watson filled his head and he realized he had never had a real female friend in his life. He always ruined it by sleeping with them quickly, but Watson was different. She was smart, kept him busy, and had no interest in sleeping with him as far as he knew. He had thought about it for the first couple weeks, but without the normal signals, hair whooshing, flirty smiles, crossing legs seductively, he had given up ever seeing her naked in any sexual way. Other than the time he walked in on her mid-dressed, he hadn't seen any part of Joan Watson. But he digressed, and decided her being around was more important than screwing up their partnership arrangement. Actually, he thought, he had never had a real friend male or female ever. They had always been people with a secret agenda. Could this friendship really pan out? Or did she have other thoughts in that "vault" as she put it about his personality and cold exterior. He knew they were close, because of the sober companion aspect, but now that she was his "partner" would this turn into a lifelong friendship or fizzle out similar to his past encounters with "friends"? Could he really trust her? He hadn't even trusted Irene wholeheartedly. After she disappeared, he thought there was something fishy, and he was glad he didn't tell her all of his secrets. After finding out who she really was, how could he really trust someone else, whom he didn't even have sex with, with his inner most thoughts? The whole idea of friendship baffled him immensely.

Suddenly, Sherlock was shaken on the arm gently. He looked up from the couch to see Watson wearing skinny dark wash jeans with her signature black ankle boots, a dark gray tank top, and a soft gray ombre sweater on top. He thought he even smelled a hint of perfume coming from her wrists.

"Do I look OK?" Watson asked with a questioning stare. "Sorry, you looked like you were day dreaming, but honestly, I don't know how to dress for his place. Have you ever heard of the restaurant AJ's by St. Mary's Hospital? It's like 4 blocks south of the main entrance?"

"No, I have never been. Is that were we are going for dinner tonight? I am actually starved." Sherlock asked confusingly. He wasn't catching the drift.

"Actually," Watson began, "Detective Bell wanted to thank me for helping his brother in surgery today and offered to buy me dinner. I felt bad making him drive all the way over here, with his brother in the hospital and all, so I told him I would meet him somewhere near the hospital. He said AJ's is pretty good, but didn't tell me the decorum, so I couldn't really plan accordingly."

Sherlock stared stunned for a moment in thought as Watson rambled on about trivial clothing matters. Was Watson going on a date with Detective Bell? The same Detective Bell that probably had feelings for her and even went as far as to superimpose pictures of Watson on revealing Victoria's Secret models? Sherlock stood up suddenly, cutting Watson off and said, "Sounds great, I like going to new restaurants. Let me just grab my coat."

Before Watson had time to interject, Sherlock was already instructing her to put her arms through her coat arm holes. She didn't know how or why, but she got the feelings Sherlock wasn't just hungry, but was protecting her. It was absurd, but not unfounded. Several of the men that had taken her out to casual dinners had been deduced before she even left the house. She hadn't noticed it before, but was Sherlock showing her he could be a real friend? She took his interruption as a yes. She always knew they would become friends, but she had thought it would take longer than this. He was not an ordinary person and he certainly had trust issues, but had she broken the barrier between partner and best friend? Hopefully, she thought.

"Shall we walk Watson?" Sherlock said interrupting her inner thoughts.

Watson thought for a moment, "Sure, but if I get cold on the way back, I am borrowing your jacket."

As they walked the 17 blocks to the restaurant, Sherlock kept glancing at Watson every now and again and looked like he was going to ask a question, but fought against it.

"Sherlock," Watson said stopping momentarily, "why do you keep looking at my face? Is there something on it?"

"I wasn't looking at your face." said Sherlock abruptly.

"Yes you were. Do you want to ask me something? If you do, just say it. I swear I won't be mad," said Watson coaxingly.

"It's stupid. I was just pondering something. Not a big deal really." Sherlock said embarrassed.

Watson held up her pinky finger in his direction. Confused by this gesture, Watson went on to explain, "This is a pinky promise. I may be an adult, but when I was a child my best friend and I would tell each other everything under the pinky promise oath. Under the oath you can never tell your friend's secret unless they tell you too." She paused for a moment for dramatic effect then continued, "Sherlock, you are my friend now, or at least I consider you a very good friend of mine now. I am giving you the great honor to be my friend as well." She smiled lightly, "if you need to say something, I pinky promise not to speak a word of it to another soul. I want to be your person. The person you come to when you have problems and want to talk. I can be that for you. Honest." Watson leaned over and grabbed Sherlock's hand, giving him goose bumps up his arm, and extended his pinky finger in her direction. With a quick motion, she wrapper her tiny polished pinky around his and waited for his to reciprocate. He looked stunned. "Come on with it already," she said jokingly. "I don't bite."

With a quick motion, Sherlock's finger wrapped around Watson's and he said, "Are you happy?"

She glared angrily at him for a moment then said playfully, "Yes, I dare say I am ecstatic."

"Let's get going then," said Sherlock quickly breaking hand contact.

"What?" said Watson. "You aren't going let me in on your embarrassing ponderings?"

"After dinner my dear Watson, we wouldn't want to keep Detective Bell waiting." said Sherlock with a grin spread across his face.

I haven't decided whether or not to continue this story. It was a first using these characters, but if people seem to like it then I will continue to write this story. Thanks if you do like and thanks if you don't. I just appreciate people reading it.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

So I have decided to continue this story for a little while, or until I cannot think of anything good to add. I always say start a story on a good note and end it on a good note. So I will see where it goes and what everyone thinks, then go from there. Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter.

Chapter 2

What are we exactly?

"Sherlock," Watson called from several feet behind him exasperated, "my feet are killing me. Next time you want to walk 17 blocks to dinner, I will just meet you there from a taxi."

"Oh, Watson, exercise is good for the body." Sherlock said while turning around to look at her.

"Yes, I know exercise is good for the body, but it isn't good for my feet when I'm wearing 5 inch boots." She said tartly. "I am stopping for the second." Watson said as she waddled over to a nearby park bench. "We still have a few more minutes to get there. You know how I hate being late."

As they sat down on the bench, Sherlock could see Watson was putting all of her weight on her left leg so he said, "Give me your right foot."

"Why?" Watson asked annoyed.

"Because, clearly you have a blister and it's very painful for you. I am sure you have a band aid in your bag. Hand it to me." Sherlock said forcefully. When Watson stared at him and didn't move, Sherlock reached over her and grabbed the purse himself. He started rummaging through searching for one himself.

"Left inside pocket," Watson said slowly. "Just hand it to me I will do it myself." She said while extending her hand to grab the band aid.

Completely ignoring her offer, Sherlock got up with the band aid in hand, knelt over, picked up her right foot, and began taking off her ankle boot slowly.

"Sherlock, I said I could," she said, but Sherlock just looked up and her voice just dropped the next words.

"I understand no man can help fearless Joan Watson, but as your," he paused for a moment trying to think of what they were, "friend, I can do this for you without any complaints."

Watson sighed loudly, "Fine, but don't pull this crap in front of Detective Bell."

There was a twinge of annoyance in Sherlock's mind. Sherlock stopped for a second with Watson's foot still in his hands. "Why?"

Watson looked at him for a moment then said, "Because it's unprofessional."

Sherlock looked at Watson for a second and thought about her answer. He could see she was going to say something else, but she seemed hesitant. "Go on," he said while placing the band aid firmly on her blistered heel.

"I just don't want people to think I am sleeping with you OK." Watson said annoyed while her cheeks flushed red. She started counting on her fingers and said, "I am already living at your home, working with you every day, you are my boss, and you have seen me half naked several times. Doing these types of things (she pointed to the foot Sherlock was holding), looks like we are together as more than colleagues."

Sherlock looked up at her stunned. He didn't actually think she would say that to him. And the fact that she was clearly embarrassed confused him into wanting to console her. He thought he was just being a friend, but seeing it from her point of view, it would look like they were together in some way. Though he didn't care what others thought, Watson was more apt to pleasing everyone around her. She wouldn't want her image skewed in front of Captain Gregson, or for that matter Detective Bell, as much as that thought annoyed him. "OK, I understand," he said with a frown on his face. He got up and walked over to the street. "Taxi," he yelled with a hand in the air. "Your chariot awaits," he said with a smirk on his face.

"Help me please," said Watson quietly.

"What was that Watson?" Sherlock said clearly knowing what she had asked.

"Please, Sherlock Xavier Holmes, help me get off this damn bench," she yelled loudly.

Sherlock started laughing loudly. "That's not my middle name."

"It sounded like it would be something outrageous like that," said Watson with a grin on her face.

"I can assure you, my middle name is much more normal," said Sherlock jokingly.

Watson extended her hands and said, "Please help me stand up."

"I thought you were the almighty, all powerful, Joan Watson?" said Sherlock in a sarcastic tone.

"Sherlock, please," Watson said with puppy dog eyes.

Sherlock walked over and grabbed her hands in his. He experienced the same goose bumps as earlier, but disregarded them. "Shall I just carry you to the taxi?" said Sherlock knowing her reply already.

"No, I am capable of walking, but standing is another issue entirely." Watson said while pushing against Sherlock for support. "Just grab my shoulder, I won't slip that way." Sherlock grabbed her shoulder as requested, but noticed she was in more pain than she lead on. He dropped his arm from her shoulder and wrapped it around her waist to stabilize her movements. Then they both wobbled into the taxi. As they both sat in the taxi driving to meet Detective Bell, Watson noticed that Sherlock had not let go of her waist yet. Actually, he had grabbed on harder, slightly digging his fingers into her side. She also noticed that there was no space between her body and his. This had been the closest they had ever been to each other. "Sherlock," Watson said grabbing his attention from the window.

"Yes, Watson," said Sherlock as he stared at her eyes.

"Thanks," said Watson. Sherlock smiled and turned back to look out the window. She realized she didn't care if he had his arm around her. Who cares what other people think. She had made so much progress with him in these last couple months that telling him to let go may revert that progress. It was just an arm anyway. What harm could it do?


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

Thanks to everyone for the nice comments about my previous chapters. I will try to keep uploading new chapters every 3 days. I also want to add I appreciate the constructive criticism and thoughts via personal messages. Since this is my first fanfiction piece, I want to make sure the characters are similar to the characters on TV, but not exact. Since Sherlock is only friends with Watson on the show, I am taking some liberties with his personality. Thank you for reading!

Chapter 3

What are we exactly?

"I am way over dressed aren't I?" asked Watson slightly embarrassed as she looked around AJs bar.

"No, of course not," Sherlock said, "though, he probably should have told you it was a dive." Sherlock said elbowing her arm.

Watson looked around the bar and saw Detective Bell in the back sitting in a booth. As they walked over, Sherlock noticed Watson fix her hair slightly with her hands. She was also trying to walk normally without a limp from the blister on her heel. Detective Bell looked overly excited to see her, but his expression changed when he noticed Sherlock had tagged along.

"Hey Joan," said Detective Bell without hesitation giving her a once over. "You look nice," he said then paused for a second, "I probably should have told you it was bar. Sorry."

"Not at all, Detective" said Watson in a light hearted tone, "I always try to dress nice, so it wouldn't have mattered."

"Really?" said Sherlock. "Didn't you wear yoga pants and a tank top to dinner last night?"

Watson glared at him sharply. Detective Bell looked at Watson completely ignoring Sherlock's comment, "Joan can I get you a drink?"

"Yes, can I get a Bud Light. Thanks." Watson said as she turned to smile at Detective Bell.

Detective turned to look at Sherlock with a frown, "Can I get you something? Water maybe?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Can you get me some cheesy fries while you're at it or maybe a burger? Thanks." Sherlock said tapping Detective Bell on the shoulder.

"You guys go ahead and take a seat, I'll be back in a second." said Detective Bell giving Sherlock a dirty look.

Without thinking, Sherlock sat right in the middle of Watson and Detective Bell. "Why don't you sit on the end and let Joan have the middle?" said Detective Bell clearly annoyed at Sherlock's intrusion.

"I was going to share my fries with both of you, so it would be better if I sat in the middle." said Sherlock with a sly grin on his face.

"Thanks, Sherlock," said Watson, "I am starved!"

Watson ended up cutting Sherlock's burger in half and eating most of his fries not recognizing how hungry she actually was. While Watson was eating she noticed the conversation had stopped. She looked up only to see Detective Bell and Sherlock in a staring match. Detective Bell didn't know how to read Sherlock. Did Sherlock have feelings for Joan, because clearly he was trying to mark his territory? Sure he had the British thing going for him, but his personality was insufferable and Joan was way above his level. Even if Joan didn't realize what was going on, it was clear to everyone else in the bar. Well, he would make his intentions clear to Joan as well. "Joan," said Bell staring at her with a smile, "why don't you start calling me Marcus. Detective Bell is so formal. I thought we were becoming friends." Bell looked over to gauge Sherlock's reaction. When he didn't see a clear change in Sherlock he went on, "Also, I think I probably should have your phone number for just in case circumstances. Ya know, just in case I can't get a hold of Sherlock. I mean you guys don't spend all your time together right?" said Detective Bell with humor in his voice.

Sherlock started getting irritated and cut Watson off from her next thought, "Actually, since we are partners, we spend most of our time together in and out of the house. Why don't I just give you "our" home phone number so that if you need to contact her, you can reach either one of us?"

Joan started looking back and forth from Detective Bell to Sherlock. Why did this dinner with friends turn into some pissing match between detectives? She just didn't understand men at all. She was friends with both men, why couldn't they understand that? "Marcus," Watson said hesitantly trying to tear the conversation away from the two men, "here is my cell number and the house phone number. That way, you can get a hold of us quickly."

"Thanks, Joan," said Marcus with extra emphasis on her name. He may not be living with her, but Sherlock never called Joan by her first name. He already had a leg up on her so called "partner".

Sherlock looked over at Watson annoyed. Did she like "Marcus" more than a friend? She clearly dressed up to see him tonight and let him call her by her first name. He wasn't even allowed to call her by her first name. Well, he was, but chose to keep their partnership professional. This feeling he was having was making his face change into a frown. Watson looked away from her conversation with Detective Bell to stare at Sherlock. "Sherlock," said Watson, "what's wrong?"

He paused for a second and realized that the only way to get out of this awkward conversation would be for him to use the vulnerability card. He had never done this before and thought Watson would definitely take him seriously. "Watson," Sherlock spoke quietly to her as Marcus went to get another pitcher of beer, "I think being around this alcohol is making it hard to think. Do you think we could leave early and get out of here?"

"Of course," said Watson clearly concerned. She turned to Marcus who was back with refills and said, "I'm sorry, we need to go because of an emergency case. Did you by any chance bring your car with you?" She wanted to keep Sherlock's pride intact.

"Yes, do you need a ride?" Marcus said with concern toward Joan. He noticed that Sherlock did not look as concerned as Joan. He understood that he had lost this round, but that didn't mean Sherlock had won. He frowned and said, "I will meet both of you outside." Next time he asked Joan out, it would be without Sherlock.

As Marcus paid the bill Sherlock and Watson walked outside and waited on the sidewalk. Watson looked at Sherlock and touched his arm, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was a bar when he invited me. I should have known this could be a trigger for you."

The goose bumps came again, but Sherlock assumed it was the chilly night air. "It's alright Watson, how could you possibly know."

Detective Bell walked out and led them to the car. He opened up the back seat for Sherlock. "Sorry buddy," he said while smiling, "all I have is the cruiser tonight. Just don't look at the bars. Also, don't be alarmed, but there are child locks, so don't try getting out." He slammed the door on Sherlock before he could protest then continued around to the front and opened the passenger side door for Joan. "Here you go Joan," he said with a touch to her lower back.

"Thanks, Marcus," said Joan completely unaware of how annoyed Sherlock was to see this action.

As they drove back to Sherlock's home he completely tuned out the chit chat from the front seat. He was more concerned with his reaction to another man touching Watson. He had never had these reactions before. Was it different now because they had held pinky fingers? Nonsense! What was he 12? He hadn't even had this reaction when he saw her half naked. What was so different now? That someone else was touching her and not him? These thoughts bothered him and he decided not to follow them. He was never going to admit that he was jealous of Detective Bell or "Marcus".

As they pulled up to their door Marcus got out and opened the door for Joan. He gave her a short hug and wished her goodnight. He looked to the back seat where Sherlock was boiling.

Detective Bell turned and said to the closed door, "Sorry Sherlock forgot you were back there."

He let Sherlock out of the back and they said their goodnights. Watson looked at Sherlock closely as they walked into the house. Then she grabbed his arm and said skeptically, "Sherlock what was going on tonight? I am not stupid. I know that being in a bar is not a trigger for you."

Sherlock was taken back. She had known he was lying and still played along? He tried to think on his feet and said, "I was feeling really sick and knew you would get my drift if I said it was a trigger being in there."

Watson looked at him exasperated, "I was being sarcastic before, but you really must think I am stupid. I can tell when you're lying (poking his chest lightly), but whatever, I thought we were better friends than this." She said with hurt across her face. "I know why you wanted to come home even if you don't want to admit it."

Sherlock looked at her again hoping that she didn't pick up on the fact that he was jealous. Watson glared at him, "You got mad because Marcus was talking to me more right? It's OK, Sherlock. I am sure that once you get to know him you two will be good friends." Sherlock let out a huge breathe. Thank goodness she was new at this detective thing.

Sherlock looked at her with a smile and put his hands up like a stick up, "You caught me. I was just mad because he didn't invite me out and you had to invite me instead. I am going to bed Watson, goodnight."

Watson watched him climb the stairs and knew he was still lying, but decided not to pursue it any further. He was too good at lying for her to know the truth tonight, but she would find out soon. Just as one wall came down between them, another one came up. She would have to try harder to find out what he was thinking.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

I will try to keep up on the chapters every 3-5 days. I go to school part time and work full time so sometimes I am just exhausted, but I want to keep this story going for a while. Thanks for everyone that read my previous chapters and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 4

What are we exactly?

2:00 a.m. rolled around and a large clank came from the upstairs bathroom followed by a guttural scream from Watson. Sherlock, who had gone to bed early because he had a long day the following morning, was awoken. He wasn't sure if what he had just heard was real or in his imagination so he waited for another scream. He paused for a moment and waited for a confirmation.

"Sherlock, help!" screamed Watson in pain. Sherlock bolted from the couch and ran to Watson's bedroom throwing open the door.

"Watson, where are you?" yelled Sherlock in distress.

"I'm in the bathroom," yelled Watson. "I slipped trying to get out of the shower and I think I dislocated my knee! I can't move!"

Sherlock paused for a second. He was trying tremendously hard not picture Watson naked, especially in her time of need, but realized it was no use. Though he would like to see her naked another time, in another more intimate setting, thoughts of her toned body swam in his head instantly. He immediately shooed the thoughts away and opened the door with his eyes covered. "Watson, are you decent?" said Sherlock hoping slightly that she wasn't.

"I covered myself with the shower curtain, but I don't care right now, just please help me up." said Watson crying.

Sherlock was shocked to see her crying. He knew straightaway that she must be in severe pain because she rarely cried. He went over to the shower and bent down to look at her knee. "It is definitely dislocated." He said discouraged.

"Sherlock, grab my arms and help me keep my leg off the ground please. Putting pressure on it will just make it more swollen." Watson said stifling a sob.

Sherlock looked at Watson and decided that picking her up would be the easiest way to get her to her room without causing her more pain. He slipped his hands underneath her body, feeling her damp skin, and pulled her up into his arms. Holding her strongly in his arms he looked at her and said kindly, "This would be easier than trying to make you walk." He was so focused on not causing her more pain, that he didn't even realize that her entire back side was open. Though he couldn't see her because the curtain covered her front, he could feel most of her body underneath the shower curtain. He walked her over to the bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot, and set her down gently on her bed. Sherlock then looked at Watson's face to make sure he hadn't caused her more discomfort. Watson's face was completely red from embarrassment. He knew this look. She had trouble letting men help her, but since they had become more comfortable with each other in the last week or so she hadn't objected to the skin to skin contact.

She suddenly looked away obviously not being able to handle the long eye contact. She said slowly and with as much dignity as she could mustard, "Sherlock, this is going to embarrass me to no end, but could you get me some clothes to wear. I need to go to the emergency room."

Sherlock, not wanting her to feel self-conscious went straight to the drawer. Before Watson could object, he opened the top two drawers and came to a complete stop. Her organization was impeccable, but more than that, she had all her under garments organized by color, day to day wear, and one section for what he was assumed was used for date nights. He turned to ask her which she wanted, but decided this was a rare opportunity. He grabbed his favorite and threw it at her. She lifted the bra and underwear up to look skeptically.

"Sherlock, really?" she said confused. "Black lace, where do you think I'm going?"

"Oh, sorry I meant to grab the sporty set." He said clearly disappointed by her disapproval.

"Sure you did." said Watson with a chuckle. "OK, now you can turn around."

"Huh," said Sherlock without thinking.

"Sherlock, I'm about to be naked," she said slowly, "so please turn around."

He looked dumbfounded. "Sorry," he said quickly. He then turned toward Watson's closet.

Joan let the curtain fall and she began to put her undergarments on quickly. As Sherlock stared straight ahead to let Watson have some privacy, he noticed that the mirror that was hanging in her closet was turned in Watson's direction. To avoid what could be an interesting argument he slammed the closet shut with a thud. Watson looked up startled.

"I was just looking for a shirt you might want to wear." said Sherlock stuttering a little.

"Please grab me a tank and some shorts from my closet." Watson said staring up at Sherlock.

"Of course." said Sherlock.

As she was putting on her clothes she winced aloud showing Sherlock that she really needed to get to a hospital. "Watson, I will go and call a cab."

Watson peered in Sherlock's direction and said, "Thank you Sherlock and I'm sorry this is such a hassle."

By the time they got admitted into the hospital, it had already been 3 hours. Sherlock kept looking at his wristwatch wondering how long it would take the hospital to process and treat Watson. He was exhausted and without coffee he was getting irritable.

"Watson, I honestly don't know how you did this?" said Sherlock exasperated.

"Sherlock, do you think I wanted to dislocate my knee?" said Watson annoyed at Sherlock's attitude.

"I'm sorry, it's just this is going to be such an inconvenience for me in the coming weeks." said Sherlock wishing he could take back what he just said.

"Sherlock, I didn't ask you to help me in "the coming weeks". All I needed was someone to bring me to the hospital. You can leave." Watson stared at Sherlock obviously hurt, but standing her ground. All the times he needed help she was there and the one time she needed him he was going to act like an ass. She wasn't caving. Not one bit. Before Sherlock could apologize she went on, "Really, I don't need you. Go home. I will call someone to pick me up."

"Watson, I'm sorry, I am just very tired. It's past 5 in the morning." He paused, waiting for her to say he could stay while she struggled to get on the doctor's table in the emergency room.

She looked up and decided in this moment she didn't care if his feelings were about to get hurt. "Sherlock, please go home. In this moment, you are actually making this situation worse. Since you are not very good at comforting people, please just go."

He wasn't expecting this. He wanted her to say that his lapse in vocabulary judgment was alright and he could hold her hand while the doctor put her knee back into place. He stared at her concerned, "Watson," he said slowly, "are you sure? This is a very painful procedure."

"Sherlock, I was a surgeon. I know it is going to hurt like a bitch, but I can handle it." said Watson not budging. "Please leave."

Sherlock knew that when Watson had her mind on something she was as stubborn as a mule. "OK, Watson I will meet you at home. If you need someone to pick you up, please call me." He pulled the blue curtain out of the way and decided that he would wait outside the hospital on one of the benches until she was done with the procedure. She may not want his help now, but she may want it later and he didn't want to miss her leaving.

Not a moment after Sherlock left, did the blue curtain shielding Watson from the other patients open abruptly. A good looking doctor with sharp features walked in and extended his hand to Joan. "Miss Watson," said the doctor cheerfully while glancing at her chart, "it is good to see you again, even under these circumstances (pointing at her dislocated knee)."

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" said Watson with confusion.

"You are the same Joan Watson that was at the top of our graduating class right? said the handsome doctor.

Joan peered at the doctor's name tag for a moment and said, "James R. Palmer? I have never heard of that name? You look like someone I went to school with, but the name doesn't ring a bell. Did you go by something different during school?"

"Joan, now I'm hurt (putting his hand on his chest)." He said with a large white toothed grin. "It's me, JR. Jim Ryan, remember?"

Watson stared at him for a moment trying to remember the old JR. "Oh my god, JR you look completely different." Joan gave him a once over. He had definitely lost a considerable amount of weight, but he still was as charming as ever. "How have you been?"

"Great now," he said cheerfully. "Obviously, you have had better days, but have you been well?"

"Yes, I actually work as a private detective for the NYPD." said Watson proudly.

"Wow, how did you get into that?" he said curiously.

"I would love to tell you JR, but my knee is absolutely killing me. Could you maybe snap it back into place then we can chat?" Watson said with a smirk.

"Sorry, Miss Watson," said JR with a new wave of professionalism. He bent over and grabbed her leg gently. He twisted it slightly to check it then said he would be back in a moment with a nurse to help him stabilize it before he put it back into position.

Watson watched as he walked away. He had completely transformed himself. No more acne, toned body, good job, these were the type of men she should be dating. He was still the same old good natured JR, but now his outside package matched his amazing personality. She started thinking about all the people he looked like. As pictures of a very lean clean shaven superman flooded her mind, a hand wrapped its fingers into her right hand. Watson immediately came out of her day dream and turned to see Sherlock sitting next to her gripping her hand.

Watson was about to say something when Doctor Palmer walked back into the room. He eyed the pair and the held hands then said politely, "Joan you didn't tell me you were married. Congratulations."

Watson released her hand for a moment then said, "JR, this is my partner, (she coughed realizing her mistake), my detective partner whom I work with at the NYPD."

Sherlock looked from Watson to the handsome doctor and said, "Yes, and you are (extending a hand to the doctor)."

"I used to go to college with Joan. I actually had the largest crush on this one (pointing at Joan)." said Doctor Palmer.

Watson gasped and both men stared in her direction. "Sorry JR, that took me by surprise."

The doctor glanced at Joan and started laughing, "How would you know, I was an ugly loser that got put in the friend-zone immediately. I should have made a move." He then looked at Sherlock very casually and said, "Joan used to get chased by all the guys at school, but she never let romance get in the way of her studies. She was very determined, but I am surprised you aren't married yet. You are one hell of a catch."

Watson winced and the doctor broke eye contact with Sherlock. He bent down again to glide his hand along her knee. He peered up at Joan and said, "Joan, this is going to hurt. Are you ready for the procedure?"

Sherlock looked at Joan with concern and said to him, "She will be fine. I am going to hold her hand."

The doctor put a firm grip on Joan's leg and started counting down from 5. "When I get to 1, I will twist the knee back into place. One! Two! And before he got to three, a horrific popping sound ensured placing Watson's knee back into place. With a scream and a hand squeeze, Joan's leg was put back together.

Doctor Palmer leaned over and said to both of them, "Now, Joan needs to stay off of this knee for at least 2-3 weeks. If she puts pressure on it, it could pop out again causing more irreparable damage and pain. I am going to give her some strong pain killers to help numb her knee, so she can't drive, walk, and she may be loopy for a few days while on these pills."

After another 30 minutes of waiting to get processed and her insurance being billed Watson gave her cell number to JR and Sherlock, instead of grabbing a wheelchair for her, picked Watson up and took her to the street to find a cab.

Watson would normally be complaining about the chivalrous behavior from Sherlock, but she was high from the pain killers and didn't care in that moment.

As they got into the cab and waited to be dropped off at home, Watson looked at Sherlock and in that moment she saw his appeal as a lover. He was helpful, kind, and sometimes overly sensitive. Even though she would discount these thoughts normally, Sherlock was acting different and making her think all these weird thoughts about him. With the pain medicine taking its toll on Watson she leaned over and laid her head on Sherlock's shoulder. He gazed down at her and his heart started beating extra fast. Though he had control techniques, when it came to blood pressure and heart beat movements, Joan completely surprised him every time he was with her. He knew that going down this path would be tricky, but he wanted to at least see where this one sided crush could take him. Maybe it would make him a better friend in the long run. Or maybe it would ruin their friendship. He didn't know and he didn't care in that moment that he wished would last forever.

When Sherlock entered their home with Watson in his arms he carried her up the stairs and laid her gently on her soft bed. He couldn't stop looking at her he concluded. Every muscle in his body was being drawn to her and he felt that is guard was only down around Watson. Sherlock grabbed her sheets and started covering her with them. He had never done this for any woman. Why Watson? Why was she so different? Then it hit him. He really did have feelings for this woman and they were extremely strong and out of his control. Would he be able to fight them off forever?


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note

Sorry I was late putting this chapter up. I have been sick for the past several days and didn't have a chance to upload this. If there are any grammar mistakes I apologize, I was not as meticulous as I usually am with my chapters because it was a few days late.

Chapter 5

What are we exactly?

Watson woke with sunlight glazing over her face. She felt woozy and light headed. Wasn't she just at the hospital? She couldn't remember. She didn't know how she got back to the house and assumed she had called a cab to pick her up. As she tried to sit up, but she realized her knee was killing her. Watson flipped the sheet off her body and examined her swollen knee for a moment. There was no way that she would be walking on that for a few days. Since she didn't know how to get up on her own, she called out, "Sherlock, are you home?" There was no reply from anywhere. She called out again, "Sherlock!" But still no answer.

Watson looked at her phone next to the bed. Had it really been already two days since she had her knee put back into place? Those were some strong drugs. They had knocked her out for two days! No wonder she had to go to the bathroom so bad. She decided that since Sherlock wasn't home this would be the perfect time to practice her detective crawl, as he had put it, to the bathroom. Watson slide out of bed, trying to gracefully set her swollen knee on the ground. The pain immediately started to burn into her knee. Watson figured that since she hadn't iced it down, the swollenness had started around a day and a half ago. Watson started wiggling toward the bedroom door, which was cracked open slightly. She slowly edged the door open with her hand and began crawling again toward the bathroom. Watson perked up just to make sure Sherlock wasn't home to see her in this position then began crawling again. Watson pushed open the bathroom door and struggled to get to the toilet. Afterwards, she decided that with a quick pit sniff she stunk. "Eww," said Watson aloud. "I definitely need a shower," she paused to look at her knee, "or a bath."

After 20 minutes of trying, Watson was able to slide into the draw bath with some bubbles. As she started scrubbing she detected her luffa hanging on the back of the door. "Damn it!" she yelled frustrated.

"Watson!" yelled Sherlock from down stairs.

Watson surprised, looked at the half open bathroom door and yelled quickly, "Sherlock don't come up the stairs."

Sherlock stopped halfway up the stairs and yelled back, "Why?"

"I'm in the tub," Watson said nervously, "I don't want you to see me naked, but could you grab my luffa?"

Sherlock laughed from the stairwell, "Well, this is a predicament. How do you expect me to grab said luffa if I can't come into the bathroom?"

"Just close your eyes." said Watson laughing at how stupid her request was.

"Fine, but if I hit my head I will be suing you." said Sherlock still chuckling.

Sherlock walked into the bathroom with his arms out in front of him with his eyes closed. "Alright Watson, guide me to my destination."

"Do you feel where the door is?" said Watson chuckling.

"Yes, I am aware the door is here. Go on." said Sherlock jokingly.

"My luffa is on the hook behind the door." said Watson. "Just throw it to me."

"My dear Watson, I can't see you, how do you expect me to throw you the luffa?" said Sherlock.

"Just listen to my voice and throw it in my direction." said Watson.

Sherlock grabbed the luffa off the hook and tossed it in Watson's direction. It bounced off of Watson's head and flipped behind the tub.

"I don't hear you thanking me yet." said Sherlock tapping his foot.

"You hit me in the head." said Watson. "It flopped next to the tub, can you grab it please?"

"I am going to have to open my eyes a bit. Before you speak, I won't look in your direction. I will try to only look at the ground." said Sherlock quickly.

"OK I trust you." said Watson joking. "If you look I will splash you just know that."

Sherlock crouched down and looked straight at the ground. He saw that the luffa had fallen right next to the tub. He picked it up and put his hand on the side of the tub to get up.

"Sherlock!" said Watson suddenly.

"What Watson." said Sherlock concerned because her tone had changed.

"Is that the tub you're touching?" said Watson getting louder.

Sherlock's eyes darted to Watson in the tub only to see he was gripping something that was very un-tub-like. Sherlock was so shocked he looked at Watson's eyes.

"Sherlock, let go please." said Watson looking down embarrassed at the position they were in.

For the first time ever Watson saw Sherlock's face go completely red. He quickly let go and got up to leave, covering his eyes to Watson.

Watson not wanting to make a mountain out of a mole hill quickly said, "It's no big deal Sherlock. It's just a breast." Immediately after saying that Watson wished she would have kept her mouth shut. Sherlock turned and looked at her.

He gave her a quick once over unintentionally, wiped his brow and left the bathroom. Watson felt her cheeks blush suddenly and dunked under the water to stop.

Later that evening after forcing Sherlock to help get back into her room, Watson could feel tension in the air. Sherlock had seen her naked back several times so what was the big deal with a breast. She thought he was acting absurd. Sherlock on the other hand was completely embarrassed with his reaction. He was sitting in his thinking spot just replaying the afternoon's events over and over again trying to understand why he had acted so weird. He could have just laughed off the brief touch and walked out of the bathroom, but instead he had to make it a huge deal to the point where Watson actually had to try and calm him down. He felt like a school aged boy that had never seen a naked woman before. Without realizing it, Sherlock started talking aloud to himself.

"What the hell was that? Clearly, she has a beautiful body, but did I have to act like that. She probably thinks I'm a pervert now. I should have just stayed downstairs. And then the look on her face, how am I ever going to look her in the eyes again? I will just try and act natural."

"Sherlock!" called Watson from her room. "Could you help me get down the stairs so I can get some dinner?"

Sherlock rubbed his forehead briefly. "Of course, Watson," said Sherlock after a pause.

Sherlock walked up the stairs and knocked on Watson's door. Watson looked up and said jokingly, "Sherlock you can come in you don't have to knock."

"I didn't want to just barge in." said Sherlock with pause.

"Sherlock, about earlier, its fine. No big deal." said Watson with a grin.

Sherlock looked at Watson and knew he was hooked. She started talking, but he realized he was so hooked that he hadn't heard a thing she said, but just stared at her air dried hair for five minutes. He had never been embarrassed in front of a woman before, but he was comfortable with Watson. She complimented his personality wonderfully. When he didn't know something, which was very rare, Watson was there with an answer. When he had a problem, she was there for him. Before he even comprehended what he was doing he sat on the end of her bed just staring.

Watson stopped talking and watched Sherlock sit down. She immediately became concerned. "Sherlock," said Watson putting her hand on his shoulder, "are you alright?"

Sherlock turned to Watson and without thinking put his hand on her cheek. His thumb went back and forth gracing her cheek lightly. Watson eyes looked down confused. Her cheeks turned pink immediately and she cleared her throat.

Sherlock swiftly looked at her eyes and let go of Watson's face. "I'm sorry Watson, I thought I saw a scratch, but it must have just been a shadow." said Sherlock with a sigh out.

Watson turned away awkwardly. "It's alright, we're friends aren't we?"

Sherlock grabbed her hand, "Yes, we are Watson."

Sherlock then picked up Watson gently and walked her down the stairs to grab some dinner. He knew he was falling for Watson, but didn't know how deep he was falling. Could she be the infamous "one"? Maybe, but for now, he was just happy she was with him as a partner and friend.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note

Hey everyone! It has been a crazy couple of weeks. Been waiting for inspiration and finally, after a week of coming up with nothing, I heard a song that made me immediately think of a new chapter. Thank you Lana Del Rey for singing Summertime Sadness. Amazing song. Thanks for reading. Hope you like it.

Chapter 6

What are we exactly?

Joan was finally feeling better from her knee dislocation. She was still not allowed to run, but walking at a slow pace was now a daily routine. It had been two weeks since the unfortunate mishap in the tub, but things had seemed to go back to normal. No awkwardness. She was thrilled that nothing was weird between them. She did catch Sherlock peering down at her chest more than once, but she decided to act flattered instead of offended. She wouldn't be young forever, so if someone wanted to check her out that was alright with her. Joan peeled herself out of bed and lazily walked over to the bathroom to take a shower and get ready for an early morning case. She was Sherlock's partner now and even though she had had time off because of training, she was pretty much full time from now on. Sherlock had said that her in house training period was over and now daily hands on experience was necessary. He said that he was going to hand select cases that were easy in his eyes. These cases would become her solo cases. She would meet with suspects and try and figure out what happened. Sherlock, obviously could figure out the investigation within minutes so Joan was going to strive to be efficient and speedy.

Joan looked into the mirror and rubbed the sleep from them. She was exhausted. She always chose to drink caffeine really late and now she was paying for it. Joan hadn't even realized there was a sticky note stuck to the mirror. It said in black pen, "Went to the station, meet you there. –S" Joan hurried into the shower, brushed her teeth, and put on a flattering, but appropriate skirt and long sweater. It was still February after all. She decided to try the new long sock look with her black ankle boots. Maybe it would magically make her taller.

Thirty minutes later she was walking into the police station, slowly, to meet Sherlock and Captain Gregson. When she spotted them speaking in Gregson's office, she beelined for the door, but was stopped for behind by Detective Bell, also known to her now as Marcus Bell. He smiled broadly and said, "Joan, I see your knee is doing better. Nice to see you back here. We all missed ya."

Joan smiled back and said, "Thanks Marcus, I feel so much better. If Sherlock hadn't been helping me I don't know how I would have survived honestly."

Marcus looked behind Joan quickly and saw that Sherlock was giving him a dirty look from inside Gregson's office. Marcus quickly brought his eyes back to Joan's and said, "This may be awkward, but I have to ask. Are you and Sherlock dating?"

Joan's smile faded and she looked a bit shocked, "Why would you think that? We are just really close friends that's all."

Marcus chuckled and said, "Are you sure, because I don't want to step on anyone's toes whether it be Sherlock or someone else when I ask you out."

Not even realizing Marcus just asked her on a date, Joan went on, "Really why would you think that? You aren't the first person to ask that, that's why I would like to know?"

Marcus's facial expression dropped. She was mentally already taken, but just didn't realize it yet. If she wasn't attached she would have just laughed it off, but she got defensive, which was code for, "I like this man, but I don't realize it yet". Because he didn't like Sherlock personally, he decided to take this opportunity to piss him off for the last time involving Joan. He touched her arm and said, "Hey would you want to go out for lunch today? Since we are friends now I should get to know you better."

Joan looked up at him, "Sure. That sounds great. I need to know more people around here so maybe you can tell me more about who I should know and stay away from."

He laughed while making eye contact with Sherlock, then walked confidently away so Sherlock would misunderstand their conversation. If anything, he was going to make it harder for Sherlock to reel in Joan not easier.

Joan then knocked on Captain Gregson's door and stepped inside. Sherlock gave her an unintentional angry look. Joan's expression changed making Sherlock turn away. Joan decided Sherlock was just being his normal self and sat down so she could concentrate on the new case.

Captain Gregson started explaining the case to Joan so she could be brought up to speed, "So Joan, here's what's going on. We have a murdered 11 year old girl on the playground at St. Michael's Catholic Church on 27th and Rockwell. She was found in the open right by the playground this morning. She had been reported missing the night before by her mother, Diane Hartford. Her ex-husband was on a plane last night on his way to a conference in China. So he is out of the list of suspects. He hasn't even seen his daughter for four months. He wrote a note to his lawyer saying Diane could have full custody. Guess he never wanted kids. That's where we are as of now. I want you to do some digging and see what you can find. Sherlock already has some theories, but he is working separately from you for this case so you can get some experience. I think that sounds like a good idea. Detectives aren't created in a day."

Without thinking Joan wrote the information down and left immediately for the morgue. Sherlock stunned, followed her, but Joan was clearly daydreaming about the case. If there was anything her background in the medical field could figure out she would surely find it before Sherlock. He was not as knowledgeable in those areas.

She stopped by the coffee machine for a moment, still not noticing Sherlock sitting on a bench behind her. She thought, "Oh, crap, I just told Marcus I would have lunch with him, but I want to finish this case first. Maybe I can reschedule quickly." She turned toward his desk trying to find him, but he was nowhere in sight.

Sherlock watched as Joan searched for Marcus and his blood just started boiling. Without his permission his body was acting jealous toward Joan. Possessive even. He didn't want her looking for Marcus. He didn't want her speaking to him outside of Gregson's office. He didn't want them together in any way. He couldn't even think of them together in other ways. It made him slightly nauseous at the thought that Joan would sink below her intellectual level for someone like Detective Bell. What was so attractive about Bell that Joan would want him? He couldn't figure it out.

When Joan couldn't find Marcus she pulled her phone out and dialed his number. Phones have to be off during testimony so it was safe to leave a message. The phone rang several times then played Marcus's very professional detective message. She waited for the beep then said quickly, "Hey Marcus, it's Joan. I am sorry, but I have to reschedule our lunch. Gregson wants me to try and work a case solo and I think I am going to be completely engrossed in it. Next time I am at the station I will take you out to make up for cancelling." She hung up and went back to sipping her coffee still oblivious to the fact that Sherlock was staring at her annoyed.

She started walking toward the elevator and pushed on the down button. Still in thought she leaned against the wall. Could the father have somehow been in New York and killed his daughter or were they looking at a totally different person? Is the mother involved? Wouldn't that be the next suspect? That would be horrible. She didn't think the mother would do anything to her own child. They seemed to have a good relationship. Maybe another family member or someone that worked at the school? Joan decided that once she saw the body it may help her piece together what happened. She stepped in the open elevator and finally noticed Sherlock staring at her. He walked in and stood next to her. He realized that even though he was jealous of Marcus, Detective Bell would never have these moments with Watson and he also wouldn't live with her, hopefully. He turned to Watson and watched her thinking process. Her face scrunched, frowned, she tapped her foot frequently, and she bit her lip, which to his amazement really excited him. He enjoyed really "seeing" Watson in all her glory.

When the elevator opened Joan suddenly turned to Sherlock in excitement. She grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the building. He looked down and felt his heart tense up. What was he 12? He felt like an immature boy just hitting puberty. But, nonetheless he went with the flow to see what Watson's epiphany was all about.

She turned to him once they were out of earshot of the station. She said excited, "I know what happened!

Sherlock looked at her, and said skeptically, "I doubt it, but go ahead."

Joan smirked because she really thought she got it. "Captain Gregson gave me a clue when he was telling me the details, wasn't he?"

Sherlock's face changed, but not drastically.

Joan snapped her finger and pointed it at his face, "I knew it! I have a feeling that it is one of the teachers who killed her. Wasn't St. Michael's one of the schools from last year's pedophile fiasco? It was all over the news. I knew I recognized the name. I'm right! I have to be."

Sherlock touched Watson's arm, "You are not correct. Sorry." He smirked at her light disappointment. She wasn't that good. "It would be on the right path if all of the teachers involved were not in prison. But alas, those suspects are not part of this pool. Maybe if we look at the body it would help give you more depth into this case."

She rolled her eyes then said, "Fine! Then let's get going."

They were able to call a cab quickly and get to the morgue in no time. Watson introduced herself to the cornier and asked politely to see the body. A small figure was brought out and set on a metal slab in front of Watson. Before Sherlock could speak Watson turned to him and said, "Please allow me to look at her first alone. I want to read the body from a medical standpoint."

Sherlock was impressed, but didn't let it show. He scurried out of the room and waited in the hallway. She waited until he was out of the room put her gloves on and uncover the little girl's lifeless corpse.

After two hours, Watson walked out and sat next to Sherlock. He was laying on half of the hallway bench. He sat up and said curiously, "Did you read her?"

"I did." said Joan sullen. She had one tear building up in her eye that she quickly pushed aside.

"So you know?" said Sherlock already knowing the answer.

"So it was the mother?" Joan looked at Sherlock's eyes waiting for a response. His eyes said yes and Joan was mentally defeated. "There were bruises on her stomach, thighs, and chest. She was beating her with something. It wasn't fists, but it was most likely metal because of the depth of bruising she was experiencing. The bruises were also under her clothes and not at all visible. She has signs of several broken bones that were not set properly in a hospital setting. There is also skin in her teeth, which means that the person that killed her more than likely has a bite. If we check the mother's arms she will have a bite. The mother must have taken the beating too far this time because there was extreme internal bleeding in the abdomen. That was the cause of death. She also must have thought that when she knocked her out she was dead so she dumped her in the playground without even checking for a pulse. She died in the playground. I would say it took 5-6 hours for her to actually die though."

Joan then got up and walked out of the morgue. She was deflated. She wished it hadn't been the mother and she had rage that was building up inside. She turned to Sherlock who was walking next to her and she said, "You can go home. I need a few minutes to cool off. I will meet you home for dinner, okay." She tried to smile, but it came out very vengeful and angry.

"Watson, I can walk with you silently." offered Sherlock. He didn't like seeing her this upset.

"No, I just want to forget this entire case on the walk back home. Thanks anyway." Joan said sadly.

Sherlock did as instructed. He understood when someone wanted to be alone, but he was hoping Watson would let him tag along so that he knew she was alright. Sherlock stared out the window on his thinking spot on the couch. He didn't want Watson to think he was waiting up for her.

Several hours passed and no Watson. Nothing. No Watson, no call, absolutely nothing. Sherlock was getting nervous. It was already 2 a.m. and Watson wasn't around at all.

At 2:45 Sherlock was awoken by the front door opening. He sprung up and bolted to the door. Watson's eyes were puffy and her cheeks were red. Without thinking Sherlock put his arms around Watson and brought her close for a hug. Watson's arms were at her waist, but she snaked her arms around his back to hug back. This may never happen again and she really needed a hug. Sherlock was surprised to feel her hands go up his back. Warmth was left in all the places she touched. Though he had had sex with many women, he felt this was more intimate. Finally, Watson started pulling away. She looked up at Sherlock and said, "Thanks for being so sweet just now, I needed that. I promise to be stronger from now on. It was just such a shock to me." She leaned up and kissed Sherlock on the cheek then proceeded to go up the stairs into her room.

Shocked, Sherlock watched as Watson climbed the stairs. Not only was she charming, caring, and intellectual, she was also beautiful and alluring without knowing it. She left him speechless, which was hard to do. He walked slowly up the stairs. He started unbuttoning his shirt. If he was going to do this, now was his chance. He wanted her. All of her, not just a measly hug. Though that was one amazing hug. Electric almost. He breathed in and put his hand on her door's handle. He would fling it open and just take her. She wanted this hopefully. He pushed on the handle, but nothing. Locked? Her door was never locked!

"Sherlock. One second I'm coming!" Joan yelled from her bed.

Sherlock screamed, "No, I am just tired. I confused your door for the bathroom."

He walked backwards to his room thinking, "Not tonight, but I don't know how much longer I can hold back."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note

I have been very busy with school and work so I wanted to make an update even if it wasn't as long as my other chapters. I apologize for the wait. I am planning to end this story in the 8th chapter so this is a short segway in that direction.

Chapter 7

What are we exactly?

"Joan, stop that tickles." said Sherlock with an out of character laugh. "I can't concentrate on my work if you keep touching my chest. It is very distracting."

Sherlock gave Joan a sideways look and put his paperwork down on his night stand. She was wearing his button up shirt and was laying her arms on his chest drawing circles slowly. He couldn't remember how they had ended up like this, but he wasn't going to object. He didn't want to admit he loved Joan, he was too stubborn for that, but he definitely had strong feelings for his partner. Sherlock just stared at Joan for a moment, not saying anything, but just admiring the view.

"Sherlock, would it be easier for you to concentrate if I had more clothing on?" Joan said with a smirk. She began to push up on his chest to leave, but Sherlock grabbed her hands roughly.

"You aren't going anywhere. I already figured out this case anyway." He chuckled lightly pulling Joan toward his mouth slowly.

Without hesitation their lips met and Sherlock proceeded to slowly work his hands up the backside of his button up shirt. Joan shivered slightly to Sherlock's touch on her bare back, but after a moment her body leaned into his comfortably. Joan gently straddled Sherlock and her hands slithered their way up from Sherlock's bare chest to his unshaven neck and eventually curled into the back of his head. Sherlock opened his eyes for just a moment to make sure this was actually happening. With both parties needing some air, Joan and Sherlock both looked into each other's eyes. Both felt something for the other and both wanted to explore that feeling more without jeopardizing their working relationship. Sherlock didn't want to think about the situation. If he started thinking, then Joan would start thinking and then both of them would decide this was not a good idea. Before Joan could stop him, Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer and began playing with her lips. He hoped she would just go with a flow and not think about the following day.

Joan was definitely deciding not to make this awkward. She was gripping the back of his head forcefully and kissing Sherlock passionately. He, yet again, was surprised with one of Joan's odd personality traits. Given her somewhat serious personality this type of passion was unusual and quite pleasing to Sherlock. Without pushing Joan off, Sherlock twisted his body so that Joan was now under him. His blouse was now fully exposing her black lingerie. Though no other woman had worn his button down before, he found the look very tempting. Almost like unwrapping a gift. Each button making him want to see more and more of Joan. Her body was stunning. He had imagined her many times, but it was different to see her petite athletic body in all its glory. He leaned back for a moment to take in the view. She could be a model with her figure. She always had a way about her that showed everyone that she wore her clothes and not the other way around.

Sherlock knew in that moment that he was in love with Joan, not just because of her body, but because of her serious calculating personality and her devoted work ethic that many others did not possess. He put his hand on the side of her face and looked at her kindly. "Joan. . .I. . .well. . .I. . .lo-"said Sherlock with sudden shock. Blood started dripping down from her face. Trickling and hot, Sherlock watched as Joan's eyes fluttered in pain.

"Sher. . .Sher. . .Sher," stuttered Joan while shaking uncontrollably.

Sherlock started feeling around on her head. He was becoming hysterical, "Nothing's there, Joan. Nothing's there!" Sherlock was screaming now panicked.

Joan stared at him angrily and started saying, "You did this to me Sherlock! This is what I have become!"

Sherlock looked at her and started shaking her shoulders. "What happened Joan? Joan!"

"What, Sherlock, gezz, I am reading."

"What?" said Sherlock obviously confused as he sat up on the couch.

"You were taking in your sleep again so I came in here and read on your chair. It wasn't comfortable, but it did get you to quiet down." said Watson clearly not amused. "You kept calling my name. I think you were just having a nightmare."

Sherlock looked up shocked that he was actually talking in his sleep. This had been a problem for him when he was high and passed out, but he had never, to his recollection, spoken in his sleep before. He walked over to Watson sitting on his lounge chair and asked in all seriousness, "What else did I say? I need to know everything."

Watson scratched her head and stood up. He looked at Sherlock in confusion and said, "I'm not sure. You were talking about a case, and then you went silent for a while. Just when I thought you were fine, you said stuff like 'I can't see anything, nothing is there, and what happened' in a panicked tone. Honestly, it was freaking me out a little."

Sherlock sighed and his shoulders relaxed. He was just happy he hadn't said anything about Watson. He didn't even want to think about her reaction to his sleeping love confession. It was embarrassing enough for a man of his intelligence to be getting all bothered by a woman, but he didn't need matters getting worse with an awkward air in their home. He would eventually have to tell her, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Watson was staring at Sherlock wondering what he was thinking. She suddenly grabbed his hand without thinking and said, "Are you OK?"

He was completely startled, but did not want to over think this gesture. She was merely comforting him and nothing more. She was a good woman whom had his best interests in mind. He patted her hand and said with a smile, "Of course. We had Thai leftovers for breakfast right? Must have been that. There are studies that show that eating Mexican and Thai dishes before sleep can cause people to have life like dreams."

"Sherlock, I know when you're OK and when something is wrong. What's the matter? You can tell me. I won't say anything, I promise." Watson said with a reassuring smile still gripping his hand.

Sherlock couldn't take the skin to skin contact any longer. He released his grip from her hand and yelled angrily, "Watson everything about my life is not yours to interfere with! Whether I'm OK or sick or tired is not your concern whatsoever!"

Seeing the shock on Watson's face made him instantly feel guilty for yelling at her, but to keep their partnership going he couldn't let her catch on to his feelings. Watson looked up at his angry eyes and said, "Fine, don't tell me anything. I'll do the same. See you at work tomorrow, partner." She got up slowly and walked up the stairs to her room. To make sure Sherlock would know this didn't affect her she said, "Good night," then shut her door slowly.

Sherlock just watched as Watson walked past him and went up the stairs for bed. She seemed unaffected by his outburst, but she couldn't feel "nothing", right?

Sherlock sat down on the couch and looked out the window angry at his outburst with Watson.

Joan couldn't sleep. She turned and looked at her alarm clock. "2:12 a.m.," she thought. Joan was angry, but she realized she was more hurt than anything. Could she really go to bed and pretend everything was fine? That really wasn't her style. She walked back down stairs calmly and sat across from Sherlock on a wooden chair next to the front windows. He was transfixed with a couple across the street fighting.

Before he noticed she was sitting across from him she said, "Sherlock, I'm sorry. You're right I shouldn't interfere in your business, but I am your friend and I care about how you are feeling. If there is anything you want to talk about, I'm here for you. That was all I was saying."

She got up quickly and started heading toward the stairs. What more could she do? Watson stopped momentarily because she heard footsteps behind her. Sherlock's arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her in for a back hug. "Joan," he said softly, "I'm sorry."


End file.
